سُنْبُل

a small token token kindness (01st january 2023)  
          
          steadfast sunsets, crooked mornings; lake a crowd of gleaming mournings. lyrics that burn, bones hopeless; tongue of wind, it rarely stays. a future of magma, temple and cityscape; humans among humans, a home bereft. 
          
          a birth that bleeds, a firmament of fleeting wisps; feet smelling of earth, lips a facade, what we appreciate. filigree like rain, a blush of darker reign; summer distorted, desert a burning lace. panaroma of a kaleidoscope, a bard like grackle; pits of doubt and a park of frission. 
          
          jardin de tuileries, seeds of breezes; memory endearments and waves of freedom. satin scents, devoted petals; barricaded branches and canvas of dripping enchantments. convivial music, lily trenchants; reflective denouements, fulgent waterfalls of wisterias. 
          
          violent fears, chalices of secrets; numbing encouragements,  frosted vanilla. oscillating mountains, cloved cessations; tainted vicolos, bricks of dried redolences. parasols of petrichor, labyrinth of moonflowers; tower of desire, rose precipices. keep a smile, with flowers divine; they grow not on well made roads but through the rough womb of mother earth. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (09th june 2022) 
          
          mourning shades, earth a rustic moon; candle soldiers, sunset roars. glass of wind, a sea that chimes; struggling lungs, alveoli of pride. circles sacred, birds and barks; persistent melodies, life a screaming scar. half of ourselves, half of earth; skeptical rules and societal lusts. 
          
          summer lightning and thunderous rainbows, yesterday's reflection in today's waters. blooming trains and grieving whistles; gravity a fork, humans fixated. ripening fruit like a sturdy kettle, boiling season as a cloudless friend. 
          
          birds of the night, mediterranean lungs; lace of glory, air a crochet undone. toes of rhythm, seventh sense; sweetness of earth's roots, pears engraved as tendrils in veins. brightness of fog, of a breath fuzzy; life in the woman's womb, a universe- like history. life blurry, a home of shadows; night, death and the womb, bringers of awakeness. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          
          (do not fear the dark; we came from it, we came from wombs) 

a small token of kindness (9th October 2021) 
          
          there is so much in us and so much we can be, like the cosmos that has been under servitude and the black hole that consumes it. there is within the sun a similar attitude; it walks the cobblestone lanes with eyes of the deceased. melted paints it wants to embellish upon the stars and pluck out the shine of its rays to decorate the leaves of autumn. 
          
          the earth moves solemnly, under the strict awareness of the watchful crowd, and it breaths yellow marigolds in hopes of being surrounded by a tree of hope. in it, on it, everywhere around it; lack of appropriate loneliness. sheer visibility of the city lights, blindness to the one from the heavens above the sky.
          
          what an agony, what a pain. jewellery like ice slitting the throat. flowers boiled in acid. the world a place of slaughter. 
          
          life is one, but lives within it many. if we choose to go beyond the doomed number, we exhaust to dust. ankles tied with ropes of responsibilities and hands with households. where rivalry thrives, it is a place of legends. the kind which carries sins and buries the oppressed. 
          
          however what of those who defy the rules? of those who, regardless of the consequences, accept war? 
          they become the kissable sea, the immortal air, the glorious sky and the soft universe.
          
          be the sun, the stars and the sky all together. if they admire you from afar, it is because they each see themselves in you.
           #adropofhumanity 
          

a small token of kindness (7th October 2021) 
          
          the sun is a relative of the old- which associated with the scarves of the dried flowers of the gone days. it has lived through jolts of dreams and eyes that held terror of desperation. the lives that lived only upon the preface of the rays, making a temporary home out of fire. 
          
          and what can be said about the moon except that seldom has it lightened its own path. it has and continues to work for the waves; the blades of which are as sharp as the flamingo's stare. it appears, it flourishes but feels foolish and stupid. it is never there by free will and is pitied upon by the sun's flames. decades upon decades of sacrifice for nothing but a few moments of pleasant lingering.
          
          the sun and the ocean are beautiful standstills; like time that has tasted oaks and horns and like seasons of dare coarsing through sorrows. they hold much; they bury misty breaths and golden glares, and they cherish the crippled yellow leaves like revenge. 
          
          but one must accept that beauty is heavy; a burden like the crisp October that balances between summer and winter. and one must stand still, hold onto elements of protection, the scabbed bits of dressed wounds. 
          
          everything beautiful is terrifying. perfection is wild; the ocean a spectacular depiction. all that which has been cursed by the needle of beauty, has used the thread of terror. perfection dies, what remains are the details. the scabs, the scars, the fine lines of torture evident upon the palette.
          
          perhaps the sun is feared for the very reason. for the love it serves and the fire that it can kill with its venom. 
          
          how else can beauty be perceived? it is common to both life and death and apparent alike in a human's blood and sweat. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          

a small token of kindness (25th July 2021)
          
          the sun fades each day. the shine of the moon fluctuates. the smell of tulips and jasmines decreases and the strength in your lungs diminishes. 
          the issue is each day brings with itself a lot of death in comparison to life. 
          some things die more than stay alive. 
          the smell of the air loses its poetry. the shine of the dark loses its comfort. the colour of the meadows become less pleasant and the stars of the night lose their shine.
          
          and then there are humans. 
          
          we lose a little of our blood. the earth feeds upon our lungs. the worries choose to devour our strength and the cycles of nature drag us closer to death. 
          
          each day, we lose more, we gain a bit and we become different. 
          
          yet nothing seems extraordinarily out of the common. 
          
          just as how easily you transitioned from a child to an adult, you will change to an elderly person. when such a time will arrive you will look back upon the golden moments of your life and find nothing in your memory.
          
          therefore, i press this upon you with utmost integrity, that just as the nature employs seasons and weathers for its inhabitants to bear privacy, so must you. 
          
          with the hope that when the dusk of life begins to descend upon you, your brain has within itself made intact every second of all your heartbeats and changes so that you may have all the old age to reminisce the moments of gold that had passed away too soon. 
          
          only if you live with yourself each day, every minute and second will the cruciality of existence make you value your soul. just because all you did was stay stationary on some days, does not mean you were still. 
          
          memorize the tiniest details of your changes so that you may realise, that no matter what, you will continue to exist. 
          and that death is for those who have gone rigid in their lives, not for the ones who exist with their heart and spirit all the time. 

"a note of appreciation on this blessed day of عيد"
          
          feel free to ignore this if it would be taking up too much of your precious time. 
          
          on this blessed occasion, i wanted to express my gratitude to you. 
          
          i began writing these tokens of kindness after i felt inspired by a friend who would post motivational reminders on everyone's boards. it made me happy and i wished to do the same. but i had always felt self conscious about my style of writing and words. they seemed unemotional and impassive. and i had lost the spark to continue down this path. 
          however, after i began posting these, you have all been unco thoughtful and considerate. the littlest of compliments and smiles have inspired me and have helped me restore faith in myself. 
          what you have done and continue to do is an act that not even my kith and kin had taken interest in doing. for which reason, i thank you most warmly. i am humbled and i pray to God that you always find success in life for what what have unintentionally done for me. 
          

a small token of kindness (19th July 2021) 
          
          some days are mundane. it is just a characteristic feature of certain weeks or hours to be simply uninteresting and empty. 
          like the sky has no clouds and the night has no stars. 
          like the earth has no human to weep for it and life has no one to appreciate it. 
          like the flower has no happiness and the birds have no will power to claim the sky. 
          
          such hours are inevitable. one cannot move past them without feeling the effects of it. and we cannot skip either with the thought of avoiding it. 
          
          you have to face each day no matter what it appears like. just as the sun that rises despite finding the sky empty and the moon that shines alone in a starless ground. 
          indeed, all days are unique. perhaps they are a little solemn compared to others but they carry their own spectrum of light. and anyone who chooses to understand their range while working with consistency and dedication will find his day improve as time progresses. 
          
          you cannot merely avoid the day or give up on it for the reason that the clouds too were not present with the sun. your time is precious, it is limited. each day brings its own death and each death its own end. each day you live a little and die a little. make the most of your life and feel your end a bit. it is highly neccesary that you passionately fixate your mind and will over what you desire to attain. nothing should be able to separate you from your dreams. you and your goals are precious. and you must fight for them each day, every hour and perhaps even every minute. 
          
          time, my dear, can be clever. it can use you for its benefit and not the other way around.
          
          
          and therefore, you must ensure that you walk the day or even crawl (you need not neccesarily run), if you do not want it to run you. 

a small token of kindness (18th July 2021) 
          
          have you ever noticed the sun and the moon try their best to shine through the clouds that cover the entire sky? and all you can see is a little of their glow peek through a soufflé of clouds?
          no matter what, they try their best to make their way out of all such weather conditions and gleam. 
          in life, to be the best version of yourself, you must be the able to walk through the worst storms and survive. 
          survival is the only winning strategy. 
          your shine need not be the strongest. all you need to do is push through and peep a little if you are able to. 
          at times, life is only about making it out alive. because that in itself is a major accomplishment. 
          to live life is to meet death. 
          and your courage is not determined by the amount of deaths you have dodged but by the will you have repaired over and over to live. 
          even if the odds are against you, let your willpower be with you. 
          a person must touch the storm to build its willpower.

a token of kindness (17th July 2021) 
          
          have you observed the moon shine despite it being surrounded by the dark?
          this is the power of good thoughts and intentions. 
          we are always surrounded by the diabolical world and the more we try to escape, the more we fall victims to it. 
          some paths you cannot escape. you will have to take them. and in such situations, how do you getaway from the evil present therein? 
          
          by lighting up your way. 
          yes, only "your" way. 
          
          it may appear that you are being selfish, but let that not bother you.
          your light- depending upon the intensity- will fall upon the paths of those who walk around you. and the stronger your light, the larger the circle you can cover. 
          
          then how does one intensify and protect their light? 
          by being good.
          and having clear intentions. 
          
          do good, be good and speak good. no matter who does you wrong, you only have clean intentions for them. 
          see, this is why our lights have diminished. 
          there is hardly anyone who adheres to these two rules strictly. 
          this is the secret of winning. 
          you do good and good returns to you. 
          
          it is as simple as that. 
          
          the ones who have the best hearts, their faces shine. their faces are like the moon. maybe they do not have the most perfectly structured features, but the light they emit is pure. 
          
          they alone are the moons in a world of dark and evil. 

thank you so much for adding Journey to Hidaya to your reading list!